


my hero

by civillove



Series: seblaine week 2k20 [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25264216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: Seblaine week 2020 - free day.  Aka: blaine rescues a baby bird that fell from it’s nest, which turns into being stuck on his balcony with no shirt on. based on thispost.--Blaine considers himself pretty capable of being calm and collected when he’s under stress. It’s not about being emotional, because he is, but he usually handles whatever situation is thrown his way before he lets it take him apart. He thinks he can thank the pressure of being a co-captain for the Warblers and all those show choir competitions because it’s not just the future of his own performance that he had to shoulder, but everyone else’s.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe
Series: seblaine week 2k20 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827478
Comments: 10
Kudos: 59
Collections: Seblaine Week 2020





	my hero

Blaine considers himself pretty capable of being calm and collected when he’s under stress. It’s not about being emotional, because he _is,_ but he usually handles whatever situation is thrown his way before he lets it take him apart. He thinks he can thank the pressure of being a co-captain for the Warblers and all those show choir competitions because it’s not just the future of his own performance that he had to shoulder, but everyone else’s.

Not only that but he’s made it through nasty breakups (more than once), the roller coaster of emotions that comes with dating Sebastian Smythe, his brother getting into a car accident (Cooper’s just fine but being in New York and hearing about something happening in Los Angeles was rough to deal with—he hates feeling helpless) and his grandfather dying (though it was expected, it was never easy).

So yeah, in general? Blaine thinks he does pretty well performing under stress.

Well, he muses, always the first time for something.

Their apartment in Brooklyn is small but it makes up for it with the little balcony that empties out from their bedroom. It’s just big enough for two chairs, which is fine, that’s all they need—they don’t have to get fancy with a barbeque grill or a fire pit (though that’d be awesome for the colder months). He spends a lot of time out there when he has lyrics to learn, the white noise of the city lulling him into a state where he can concentrate.

He’s got the day off from work and he spends most of it doing errands, making sure they have groceries for the week, folding laundry, cleaning up around the apartment. Finally, he decides he should spend a little of the afternoon outside with his latest show’s set of lyrics and a cup of coffee. Sebastian will be home in the next thirty minutes or so and it’s his turn to make dinner, so Blaine should have more than enough time to himself.

He’s singing through a few lines on the paper, balancing his coffee and the script between his hands as he tugs the sliding glass door open to the balcony. He frowns as the door sticks and he barely squeezes himself out—they really need to fix this thing. Blaine puts his stuff down on the tiny table they’ve managed to fit between the chairs so he can use both hands to shut the door.

Which is stuck.

He sighs and tips his head back towards the sky because _bless_ New York apartments, this is exactly what he should expect to happen. He tugs, hard, until the door finally frees itself—the good news is that he manages to get it closed, the _bad_ news is that he jostles something else that he doesn’t notice right away. 

A lot of things seem to happen at once—he hears a soft plopping clatter and then a bird chirping insistently. Blaine frowns, turning a little and glances behind him to where the noise is coming from because these sounds have come out of nowhere. He’s seen disaster movies where birds begin flying all at once _away_ from whatever impending doom is about to hit a major city and a ridiculous part of him wonders if he’s about to be shoved into a scene from _The Day After Tomorrow._ But there’s not a swarm of birds, it’s just one and its tittering on the other end of the balcony, flying up and down in one place, squawking at him.

“Sorry to have disturbed you, miss, but I did my best with the door sticking.” And now he feels a little crazy because he’s standing on his balcony talking to birds. Though really, what’s the difference than any other times he’s said a few words to pigeons while walking through Central Park—despite Sebastian’s eye rolling.

He shakes his head and turns to sit down in one of the chairs when a gray blob flops near his shoe and _oh,_ he gasps, _oh my god._ No wonder that bird is pissed at him—in his haphazard haste in trying to close the balcony door, he’s knocked a baby bird from a nest and—

“Oh my god,” Blaine says quickly and crouches down, drawing his lower lip into his mouth as he watches it for a moment. It’s moving, at least, and he glances up and attempts to crane his neck because he had no idea there was a bird nest so close to their sliding glass door.

It must be somewhere behind the gutter. He looks back down at this little _thing_ and despite all of the years of calm Blaine’s been able to cultivate through a ton of different situations, he feels panic grip icy fingers around the bottom of his ribcage as he watches the baby bird struggle. It opens its eyes a little, flapping non-existent wings because it’s practically soft, warm skin and ragged beginnings of grey feathers.

“Damnit,” He mutters to himself and quickly takes off his shirt, attempting to scoop him up. “Hey, hey little guy. Please don’t run anywhere.” He bites down hard on his lower lip to concentrate, gently picking him up as carefully as he can. The last thing he wants is for it to freak out and end up falling off the balcony.

He’s not even sure how it’s still alive falling from that height, smacking directly into concrete. God, if Blaine ends up accidently killing a baby bird he will _never_ forgive himself. He draws the tiny thing into his chest and stands with it wrapped in his shirt, moving the fabric aside to look.

He smiles gently at the little legs, the bright yellow beak almost too big for its head and a consistent flapping of underdeveloped wings—such a willingness to live.

“It’s okay, I’m gonna get you back where you belong.” He turns to look over his shoulder for what must have been the mama but she’s nowhere to be seen…and he doesn’t hear her either. “Don’t worry I’m gonna put him back!” He calls out to nowhere in particular—

And his neighbor, Mrs. Gretchen, who’s a few balconies away watering her plants gives him a weird look. He smiles awkwardly at her and clears his throat; he can’t imagine what he must look like. No shirt on, standing on his balcony and yelling into the city about a baby bird. He can’t wait to go to the next apartment mixer.

He moves to drag a chair up against the sliding glass door and thinks about this for a moment, the last thing he wants to do is lose his balance and God, he wishes Sebastian were home. He holds the baby bird as gently as he can to his chest and climbs up onto the chair and this would have worked easily except…

Except he’s _too short_ even with standing on a chair to see the nest…let alone put the bird back. A whine slips out of his throat as he looks down at his shirt, that same panic welling up in his chest at not being able to put this bird back.

He gets down off the chair and paces for a moment, looking from the bird to the chair and into the city to the sliding glass door. No other ideas pop into his mind, just that ridiculous sense of dread at holding something so delicate in his hands and—

“Okay, relax,” He mumbles to himself as he moves the chair out of his way, “Just…take him back inside, wait for Sebastian to get home.”

Blaine takes a deep breath into his lungs and pulls on the sliding glass door.

And it won’t budge.

“Oh, come _on.”_ He snaps and the little bird in his shirt makes a soft chirping noise in response. Blaine glances down at it and winces in an apology before running his other hand through his hair, “This can’t be happening.”

He is stuck on his balcony, with no shirt on, holding a baby bird—why does this sound like some sort of black-box-theater production he’d roll his eyes at if he saw an advertisement for it?

Blaine sits down in the other chair and sets his shirt down onto his lap, making sure the fabric isn’t suffocating it. The bird rolls but stays generally still, little chest moving up and down so quickly as it breathes. He closes his eyes and concentrates his shaking fingers on unlocking his iPhone and calling Sebastian.

His boyfriend picks up after three rings, “Hey—”

He doesn’t get another word out because Blaine interrupts, “Are you almost home?” He chokes out.

There’s shifting on the other end, the sound of traffic, “I’m a few blocks away, what’s wrong? Are you having a migraine?”

 _Oh,_ god, is that what he sounds like? Blaine pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, “No, it’s—” He sniffles, “Sebastian I’m stuck on our balcony because the _stupid door_ won’t open and there’s this baby bird that fell from its nest—I’ve got it in my shirt and I don’t know where the mama went and I can’t reach the damn _nest,_ I can’t even see it—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Sebastian shushes, “Slow down. You’re _what?”_

Blaine sighs before checking on the bird on his lap. Still alive, still breathing, calmer now and settling into his shirt and God, this is so ridiculous. “A baby bird. Fell out of the nest. And I’m stuck on the balcony because of the _door._ And I’m too short to put it back.”

Blaine can tell that Sebastian is trying _really hard_ not to laugh, a muffled noise with a cough following to cover it up. “And you’re shirtless?”

“ _Sebastian.”_ He all but whines and his boyfriend _does_ laugh then.

“Okay, okay, I’m almost home. Just…sit tight.”

Blaine bites down on his tongue from snapping because all he _can_ do is sit there and wait for him. He hangs up the phone instead and leans back into the chair, his script and coffee forgotten about as he looks down at the baby bird and sings to it. It’s mostly just random lines from a few pop songs that have gotten stuck in his head from the radio but…at one certain point he _definitely_ hums out the tune from _Dear Theodosia_ and stops right there.

If his boyfriend hears him singing a tune about fatherhood to a _baby bird_ he will never live it down.

It takes Sebastian ten minutes to walk into their apartment and make his way into their bedroom. He stands from the chair and watches him take off his suit jacket, loosen his tie and roll his button-down shirt sleeves up to his elbows. He smiles at him through the glass even though Blaine keeps a scowl on his face as he tugs on the sliding glass door.

Eventually it cranks itself open and Sebastian makes his way through. Blaine _hates_ that an overwhelming sense of relief crashes into his chest so hard at seeing him that it makes his breath hiccup a little.

“Alright, let me see, Steve Irwin.” Sebastian teases as he takes a step closer to him.

“This isn’t _funny,”_ Blaine says a little frantically, his voice pinched, “First I thought I killed it and then I—I couldn’t even reach to put it back, what if the mom _rejects_ her baby bird, Sebastian?”

“Okay, that’s the leftover adrenaline speaking,” The taller mumbles, moving to drag the chair back near the sliding glass door. He easily crawls up onto it, standing evenly with long limbs that has him peeking over the gutter. “The bird is going to be just fine. And don’t even think about it because we’re not about to _adopt_ a baby bird.”

Blaine sniffles and rolls his eyes despite the fact that Sebastian isn’t looking at him. His fingers wrap around the gutter as he leans up to look and – “Okay, I found the nest. Hand him over.”

He takes one last look at the baby bird and gives Sebastian his shirt. His boyfriend gently scoops him out of the fabric and places him back into the nest, crawling down from the chair and putting it back where it belongs.

Sebastian motions to the script and coffee, “I see you got a lot done today.”

Blaine watches where the nest is for a few moments, hoping the mama bird eventually flies back. “Clearly,” He wipes the one side of his face with his wrist, “We need to get that door fixed.”

“Come here you big cry baby,” Sebastian soothes, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they walk back inside their bedroom. He tosses Blaine’s shirt towards the hamper in their closet and presses a kiss to his hairline.

Blaine sighs, lingering nerves making his hands shake and lower lip wobble as he turns into Sebastian’s chest. The taller chuckles and holds him tightly, rubbing his hand up and down his back, fingering through some of the curls near the nape of his neck.

“My hero,” Sebastian teases, pulling back so he can tilt his chin and kiss the corner of his mouth.

Blaine rolls his eyes, leaning against him as his arms rest along the other’s waist. “I didn’t really do anything other than panic and freak out Mrs. Gretchen in 12B.”

“Mrs. Gretchen should be thanking you for the free show she got of you taking your shirt off.” He says sweetly and tugs on Blaine’s wrist when he tries to walk towards his dresser to get something to put on, “A show _I_ would like to now enjoy but with the rest of your clothes.”

Sebastian licks his lips and sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes traveling down Blaine’s body in a way that always makes him squirm, heat pooling in his belly and snaking lower.

Blaine shakes his head but he’s already taking slow measures in removing his belt, fingers lingering so that Sebastian has no choice but to watch. “I suppose it’s the least I can do.”

His boyfriend hums, his fingers itching to touch even though he doesn’t. “Don’t worry, at some point I’ll be sure the tell you the _most_ you can do.”

Blaine laughs softly and unbuttons his jeans.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
